You just... you light up sometimes, you come alive and I wish I could paint that, the light in your eyes, the striking bone structure, all of it.

[Not that it can. Art supplies are way, way out of the budget. But Jason's hand up against its' feels good, humanizing in a way that takes the sting out of the impossibilities Nothing has to live with. Gingerly, it wraps a few fingers around a few of Jason's, like testing the waters for holding hands. That should broadcast just how long it's been since Nothing was close to anyone and how sincere this is - if it were joking around, it wouldn't be so hesitant about everything.]

There's flecks in your eyes that shift shade depending on the lighting. I don't think I could do any painting of you justice, honestly.